In some ways, maybe - Not so much in others
by MaddieJV
Summary: My take on the Clintasha story. Will remain T for the duration of the story. Mostly fluff and romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. I don't usually add Author's Notes to my stories unless there's something important to say but I usually make an exception for the first chapters of new stories. There are a lot more readers and writers here than in my other fic-circles so I hope I get more reviews than usual. I am taking the Marvel canon loosely so the story may be exactly following in some areas and taking only hints in others, but please let me know of any mistakes you notice. Additionally, I am a college student so, while I have plans to continue this story, uploads will be sporadic and length may vary. Thanks for reading, and please enjoy the story!**

Barton glanced at the file again, though he knew he had it memorized already. While he was careful not to show it this mission had him more worried than usual. All his tasks had a certain amount of danger but this time he was up against the Black Widow. This promised to be one of the more difficult missions of his life. He hadn't actually wanted to take it. Fury, however, wouldn't let him out of it, so here he was on a jet to Russia and, he thought, probably his death.

He was dropped off and instructed to meet in the same place in exactly two days with the mission completed. He was also given a com in case something went wrong. A luxury he was only provided on missions more dangerous than most. Not what he would consider a comfort.

Four hours later he found himself on a dark rooftop across from a hotel. Intelligence said that she had been hired to kill one of the prominent guests at a party being held there that evening. He positioned himself at the edge of the wall and pulled his scope out of his pocket and began searching for his target.

"Don't tell me they've double booked the job." He heard in Russian behind him. "I do hate competition."

"Natalia Romanova. Pleasure to meet you." Barton said, attempting (however unsuccessfully) to hide his surprise. "No," he added, answering your question. "I'm after a different target tonight."

"Good." She raised her arm and, without breaking eye contact with Barton shot her gun in the direction of the hotel, causing almost instant chaos in the party. Barton's surprise was completely evident this time as he raised his scope to his eyes and looked to the party.

"How did you- you didn't even- you didn't miss!" He spun to look at her only to find that she wasn't there. "Damn. Fury's not gonna be happy that I lost her," he whispered. Knowing he wouldn't find her again tonight he picked up his bow and turned to leave. He was almost across the roof before it happened.

She had jumped on him and knocked him flat on his back and pinned him with her foot on his chest.

"Who sent you?" She demanded. No one had gotten this close to catching her. Most people didn't know she existed, save for rumor.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. We're the good guys." He answered quickly.

"Why?" She pushed a little harder on his chest. In lieu of answering he raised one of his eyebrows bemusedly and gestured to the other side of the roof where they had been only moments before. Barton was wary when she stepped off of him. He was a threat to her. If the rumors were right he should be dead. She was silent for a moment before she said, "for the record, I never miss." She shot him in the right shoulder. Flipping on to his stomach Barton drew an arrow back in his bow and aimed for the woman casually walking away from him. He reconsidered though he wasn't entirely sure why.

He pulled the radio out of his pocket instead and called for evac. "I've been shot. Not critical." Within minutes he was in a chopper and headed for safety.

A week later Barton was in his living room recovering and watching movie before bed. He walked to the kitchen to wash his tea mug and was startled once again by a question asked out of the darkness, in Russian.

"What did you mean, 'good guys'?"

"You know I have a door. You could knock instead of sneaking up on me." Barton responded, turning on the kitchen light. The Black Widow was sitting in a bar stool, feet in the counter, leaning back more precariously than most people would be able to manage. She shrugged at his response.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Barton asked in English, ignoring for the time her question.

Another shrug. "Your answer. I wanted to know more. So again. What 'good guys'?" She asked again, still in Russian.

Barton gave her an explanation of S.H.I.E.L.D. but kept it vague enough that he didn't breach security. He also told her the general story about how he had joined. He opted to leave out the messy personal details.

"And why did you join them? You could have kept going on your own." She asked when he finished.

"I had no aim. No purpose. I would have either burnt out or become a target."

"Like me." The Russian stated simply. "Except you didn't kill me. Why not? If everything you said about your organization is true I shouldn't be here."

"You hesitated. You aren't like the other assassins we've dealt with from Red Room. You don't seem to be at any rate. You didn't kill me and, now again I could be mistaken," he teased, "but you seem to have a conscience."

She pondered his answer for a minute before speaking. "And this S.H.I.E.L.D. They helped you?"

"And they can help you. You don't belong to the Red Room. You could choose to leave and be a good guy. Use that conscience of yours." As she pondered Clint took a close look at her. She was young. Granted he was young, too, but that didn't stop him from being sad for her. "How old are you? The file we have on you is pretty sparse. You're a bit of a ghost."

"Nineteen. As of last month," she stated simply.

Barton struggled to hide the pain painted across his features so he turned around under the guise of rinsing his mug. "Young," he stated, afraid that if he said more his words might catch in his throat.

"In some ways, maybe," the Russian responded, "not so much in others."

Barton understood and nodded softly. "You can stay here if you like." There was a long silence and Barton had to turn around to see if she was still there.

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Barton was up early. He hadn't really gotten much sleep (but really, who would while sleeping next door to the world's deadliest woman) and he decided to use his morning to go for a run and maybe go to the farmers market for some fresh food. He returned to his apartment with fresh strawberries and peaches and some vegetables he thought he might use to make dinner.

Natalia woke with a start, though she remained still, when she heard a crash coming from the next room. She didn't really need time to adjust to her surroundings since she woke up somewhere new every couple days, but the clattering and cursing she heard was new. While she longed for a shower and some clean clothes she had nothing with her. She sighed regretfully and tried to straighten her hair as best she could before leaving the room.

She walked silently over to the barstool she had occupied the previous night and watched the man in the kitchen. He was cleaning something off the floor by the stove and didn't notice her enter the room.

"Good morning." She said quietly, continuing to speak only on Russian. Barton lifted his head to look at her and only then do she realize just how blue his eyes were. A bluish gray really, but incredibly vibrant. She blinked at him.

"And to you," he responded in her language.

Natalia plucked a strawberry out of the bowl sitting in the counter and spun it in her fingers while she pondered her next move.

"What's your name?" She asked, looking at the strawberry rather than him.

"Clint. Well, Clinton Francis Barton really, but everyone calls me Clint. I thought you would've known that, since you found where I live."

"I found your address when I looked in your employer's roster. Only looked for 'Hawkeye'." She finally gave into temptation and bit into the strawberry. She almost melted at how wonderful the taste was.

Clint finished cleaning the floor and started transferring food from the stove onto plates. He set one in front of her and set his own on the counter opposite.

Natalia eyed the food on the plate and looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"What? It's safe. Go ahead and eat it." She picked up the food cautiously and eyed Clint. He was eating the same thing. "It's a grilled cheese. Pretty simple stuff usually but I use sourdough bread and muenster cheese and I throw just a little paprika on for good measure."

Natalia took a small bite and found that she actually enjoyed it. The two ate in silence and Clint cleared the dishes when they were finished.

"I haven't told S.H.I.E.L.D about you yet. I'm thinking they can wait another week until I'm off medical leave, thanks to you by the way, and we can get to know each other a bit more." Clint had given up speaking Russian but he knew she could understand him. "We need to go shopping too."

"For what?" She asked in response.

"Well, Natalia, if you want to keep staying here you'll need a bed. And I'm sure you want some clean clothes and some shampoo of your own." She looked surprised. "W- I don't mean to assume or anything. I just thought that you probably don't have anywhere else to go and I'm a relatively harmless guy in this situation so-"

"Thank you. Only I wish you wouldn't call me Natalia. I want something different. Something no one in the Red Room ever said to me." She she interrupted quietly, inspecting the bowl of strawberries. It was Clint's turn to look surprised.

"Sure. I'll let you think for a while and you can tell me what you want. You might also want to speak in English. Russian isn't a common language here. Until then, Ikea?"

The two went to a couple of clothes stores first where Natalia eagerly replaced the clothes she'd been wearing for four days with new, clean ones. She had picked out a few pairs of jeans and some nice tops and a leather jacket she couldn't pass up. Then Clint took her to Ikea. Expecting a regular furniture store, Natalia wasn't prepared for what she found, but despite the shock she still managed to pick out a bed and desk she liked and a lamp to light the room. She chose some sheet sets and towels and, at Clint's suggestion, some down pillows and comforters.

The room she had been given was Clint's office and so only had a couch and his desk in it. He pulled his desk out and put it in his own room down the hall and set to work putting together Natalia's furniture.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked from her perch on a large furniture box. She'd never really known someone to do something nice for her without expecting something in return. She knew what most men would've expected and the Red Room taught her to not hesitate in giving that if it meant she could complete her mission. But she didn't think that's what Clint was after. He seemed to understand her pain and, while she didn't fully trust him, she thought he was genuine.

"Well you can't very well sleep on a couch, can you? And you don't look like someone who is terribly willing to build furniture."

She wrinkled her nose at the thought of building anything but she ignored his comment. "I mean, why are you helping me? Letting me stay here? You were sent to kill me, I shot you, and then you let me move in."

Clint stopped what he was doing and say back on his heels, pondering her question.

"You seemed… sad. Like you didn't even care anymore. That and the fact that you didn't kill me when you had several opportunities. Not something people from the Red Room usually do. Especially not someone with your reputation. I was given a second chance and I thought you should get one too."

She thought over his answer and seemed satisfied with it. "Ok. So you mentioned getting to know each other. If this is going to work we should be able to… not trust each other exactly, I don't think that comes easily to either of us, but-"

"I know what you mean. Ok then, ask me something."

"Family?" She asked. It seemed like a simple enough way to start until she saw his muscles tense briefly.

"My parents moved us, me and my brother, to Iowa when I was two. We lived there until my parents died five years later. Then I lived with my brother until he died. Been on my own since."

"What happened to them?"

"Uh-uh. My turn to ask something. How did you get into this business?"

"I don't really remember. I was pretty young. I vaguely recall a fire, and I think I was crying. After that everything I knew was Red Room. I think my parents died in that fire. I overheard someone talking about something to that effect once." Clint was as quiet as he could be while still building her furniture. He waited for her to ask another question and was hoping it wouldn't have to do with his family.

"How old are you?" That caught him off guard but he figured he had asked that of her the previous night so it was only fair.

"Twenty three." he answered, Natalia hiding her surprise much better than Clint seemed to be able to. He righted the now-complete bed frame and nestled it against the wall. He wrestled the mattress across the room and into place. "There ya go. I'll go cook dinner if you want to make your bed. We can ask more questions later." With that, he left the room and Natalia was left to organize her room herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone. Apologies for what happened with this chapter last time I posted it. I type mostly on my phone so sometimes the copy/paste doesn't work very well. Have yet to figure out why. Anyway, here is the chapter fully un-garbled and as it was intended.**

She had just finished arranging her desk and stood back to admire it (she hadn't really had her own room before and liked that she had a space that was personal) when Clint called her and told her that dinner was ready.

"Chicken pot pie with fresh vegetables," he said as he set a plate in front of her.

"Thanks. For everything."

"Hey. No problem." The two happily ate dinner asking questions and chatting when Clint thought to ask, "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"No," she responded thoughtfully. I kind of want to stick to something close to Natalia but I can't think of anything."

"Natalie? Nadine?" He started listing names he could think of to no avail. His new friend simply wrinkled her nose at every one. "Well we'll think of something. Anyway, I asked about the name; it's your turn to ask something."

Wanting to avoid topics as touchy as family, she asked, "what do you like to do in your free time?"

Clint set about clearing the dishes while he answered. "I love reading. I get lost in a novel, fall into the lives of the characters, get caught up in their drama. I love that feeling and I always know that I can go back to a book and fall in love with it all over again anytime I want. I have one book that always makes me feel better. Read it thirteen times." He stacked the dishes and sat back down. "Naomi? Nicole? Natasha? Oh that's rather nice. Hmm. Anyway. I'll let you have first shower tonight."

The assassin nodded, lost in thought. She didn't speak again until she was out of the shower. "Damnit!" She cursed loudly. She had wrapped herself in her towel and walked to her bedroom when Clint heard her.

"You ok?" Clint asked through her door.

"I forgot to get pajamas. I have nothing to wear tonight."

"Oh. Here. Hang on." She could hear his footsteps retreat and return quickly. He knocked lightly and opened the door just enough to fit his arm through. "You can wear one of my shirts tonight and we can get you your own tomorrow."

She accepted the shirt gratefully and pulled it over her head. It was a gray t shirt with a band logo she didn't recognize across the front. It looked well worn but it was soft and comfortable and long enough that everything was covered. She opened her door and stepped into the hall towards the bathroom to hang her towel, only to find Clint in front of the counter struggling to redo the bandage on his wound.

"Here, let me," Natalia gently pushed him down to sit so she could reach his shoulder better. She deftly applied the ointment and gauze and sealed it with medical tape.

"So tell me something about you that no one knows." Clint said after she finished. The two shared the mirror as the finished their nightly routines. Natalia paused briefly, considering her response.

"I am afraid of spiders." She said matter-of-factly. The look of shock on Clint's face that the Black Widow, the world's deadliest woman, named after the spider for that reason, was _afraid of spiders _caused her to laugh. "Your turn." She added.

"I dreamt of being a baseball player when I was little." She laughed lightly again the two headed out of the bathroom toward their respective rooms.

"Good night Clint." She said quietly.

"Good night-"

"Natasha." She added for him.

"Good night Natasha."

The two continued in that manner getting to know each other for the next week as Barton continued to heal. With Natasha's help he would be as good as new faster than if he tried to bandage it himself. Natasha was fully settling in to her life in the U.S. and although she had purchased pajamas of her own she continued to wear Clint's shirt.

"Hey. I'll have to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. soon. Do you think you'll be ready to go to work?" Clint suspected she was burying some trauma but she didn't show it. "I have heard rumors of what the Red Room does to and with its assassins."

"I'll be fine." Natasha said without missing a beat. Clint didn't believe it but said nothing.

"Speaking of work," Clint said as his phone rang. "Agent Barton. Healing fine, sir. Yes. Any day now. Today? Yes, sir. Er- well, you see, that's- yes, sir. I'll see you then." He hung up the call and turned to Natasha. "Guess I'll be going back sooner than I thought. I'm meeting Director Fury in an hour. Which means you're meeting fury in an hour. Suit up."

"Director Fury." Barton greeted, stepping through the door. Natasha was right behind him walking quickly and taking in her surroundings. Fury was digging through a filing cabinet and hadn't seen her.

"Agent Barton. You ready to get back out there? You're the best we've got and we can't have anyone less going after the Black Widow."

Natasha hid her laughter and Barton tried to hide the smirk on his face. "Actually, sir, I won't be going on another mission against her."

"Excuse me? What do you-" he spun around and took in the sight of the Russian standing just behind his agent. "Holy shit, Barton. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking she will make a great agent. She already has the necessary skills and-"

"I don't give a damn about necessary skills, Barton. I care about the fact that you brought one of our deadliest enemies into our headquarters. She works for the Red Room!"

"Worked." Natasha said quietly.

Fury swung his gaze to her and spat out a venomous, "what?"

"You said works. Present tense. I worked. Past tense. I no longer have any allegiance to them."

"Do I look like I care about grammar?" He questioned. "How am I supposed to trust you after what you've done?"

"Do you trust me, sir?" Barton interceded before Natasha could respond. "Just give me some time and you'll see. She'll be as good an agent as I am. Please, sir. You gave me a chance. Give her one, too."

Fury just stared at the two for a long time. "Fine. Leave before I make the rational decision and give orders to have you both terminated."

The two hurried back down the hall, still littered with staff and agents frozen from the initial shock of seeing the Black Widow in their office. Barton was trembling imperceptibly from both terror and elation, unsure which would take precedence. "Want to get lunch?" He asked with forced calm.

"Yeah!" She responded, all but skipping down the hall. Suddenly, seeing her act more like her actual age, Clint realized again how young she was and how mature she looked in the director's office. He wondered if that's what people thought of him.


	4. Chapter 4

"So obviously you are good with guns," Clint chuckled over their lunch, "but what other special skills do you have from training?"

"Mm, hand to hand combat, I've used a crossbow before but I'm not very good. I speak about ten languages fluently, and I'm pretty good with computers."

"Wait, Ten languages? I thought I was impressive with five. Anyway we need to get you certified with all those things with S.H.I.E.L.D. I'll have Coulson set up some tests for you. Also we should spar sometime. I need to get back in shape after," he gestured toward his shoulder.

"You think you're up to the task?" Natasha baited lightly.

"No," he raised one eyebrow and smiled at her. "But I'm not sure Fury would let a one else spar with us. Not that many would be willing to go up against you. What? People are afraid of you! Take that as a compliment," he added seeing the look she gave him.

Clint paid the check and the two walked back to his car. "So is there anything else you want to do today? I'll call Coulson and we'll probably start training again tomorrow or the next day but we have today free."

"Mostly I just want to learn more about S.H.I.E.L.D. if we could. Kind of want to relax for a day before I go back into training." A luxury in her mind, but she supposed that now might be her last day in a long time to actually do that.

"Yeah, I get that. Sure. Ask any questions you have and I'll fill you in."

"Fury. Is he the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"He is on the board of directors. I think there are somewhere around eight but I'm not sure. Fury runs the D.C. branch and I've only met him."

"How many people work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"About 3000 in our branch and we're the first, biggest, and the head of the agency. All the others have a few hundred people."

"Who started the company?"

"Now that's actually a fun story. Not sure how much of it is true and how much is rumor but it's fun to tell. Apparently during World War Two a man kept trying to join the army and kept getting rejected. Then finally he got into some sort of super soldier science experiment division and turned into this super buff patriotic guy and eventually saved a bunch of men who had been taken hostage. Then he and a few other soldiers defeated some Nazi villain who had gotten his hands on some really powerful weapons. Some say it was magic or something out of Norse mythology but I don't buy it. No one knows for sure because the buff science experiment soldier vanished. Some say he crashed a plane or something into the ocean and died. But the scientists and some of his friends started S.H.I.E.L.D. as a kind of memorial science and protection division in his honor."

Natasha gave him the most skeptical look she could. "That's the most ridiculous story I've ever heard. It sounds like something out of a children's book."

"Yeah, I know." He responded. "Most of the files are still sealed so I can't tell you for sure. Those are just the whispers I've collected. I do know for a fact though that the founder of Stark Industries, you know that company? He was involved. It grew from there."

"I've heard of Stark. Had some kind of genius son, right?"

"That's the one." Clint confirmed. The two had arrived back at Clint's apartment and collapsed on the couch. Natasha, fidgeting slightly, asked the question she'd been meaning to ask all afternoon.

"What happens if I don't pass?"

"What?" Clint asked, not following her train of thought.

"The tests you said you would have that agent set up for me. Coulson. What happens if I don't pass?" Awaiting his response Natasha feigned interest in the books on the shelf. If he was anything at all like her he would be able to see the anxiety in her eyes clearly.

"Oh that. For most tests if you don't pass you just train a little longer and take them again. They're more for measuring language and aim and skills like that. You won't get kicked out or anything. S.H.I.E.L.D. only offers positions to those they know they can trust, or who at least have a good recommendation from an agent. Nothing to worry about."

Natasha was quiet for a long time. "What is your story? I know the basics that you told me but the rest?" She asked quietly. The two were relaxing on the couch and Natasha could sense Clint tense beside her.

"Not yet." Was the only response given. Natasha nodded, unoffended. She knew where he was coming from and didn't push the matter. For several minutes the two sat in an uncomfortable silence before Clint offered to put a movie on.

A silence settled over the two that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Clint, so focused on the movie to avoid thinking about his past, didn't notice that Natasha had fallen asleep. She lay next to him stretched out on the remaining cushions with her feet dangling on to the floor.

A faint smile ghosted across Clint's face as he knelt to pick her up but was gone as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt his breath catch and began to worry.

He avoided relationships of any kind because he never knew where he'd be whisked away to or for how long he'd be gone or even if he'd return. He didn't want to worry anyone and he couldn't afford to be distracted. But as Clint carried Natasha to her room and settled her on her bed, he realized it was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

"I've got fifty on Black Widow," an agent whispered to another.

"No way, man," the other replied, "gotta be loyal! It's our agent all the way. Fifty on Barton!"

Though the two agents were standing right next to the boxing ring in which the two contested fighters were sparring, neither noticed the bets being placed. The gamblers were part of an enormous crowd that had formed around the ring and everyone was whispering and chattering.

The day had started simply enough. Clint and Natasha had gotten to S.H.I.E.L.D early and started working on getting back into shape. However it became more difficult when the two realized how equally matched they were. Half an hour into the match and neither had fallen.

At first only a couple other early agents watched them while they ran on the treadmill but it soon grew to a crowd of fifty agents around the ring, any semblance of working out gone.

A hush spread quickly through the gawkers when, unnoticed by the assassins, Fury showed up flanked by two agents.

"How long have they been at this, Coulson?" The director asked the man on his right.

"Half an hour, sir" he replied.

Fury watched the two in the ring as they tried to find a weakness in their opponent. He thought the match might end when Natasha leapt at Clint but the attack was easily blocked. Neither did Natasha fall, refusing to be beaten on her first day. Clint swung his hand toward Natasha in an attempt to knock her down but she ducked and returned the favor with a leg swung towards his. Clint stepped over the kick as though it was nothing. He reached down and grabbed her extended leg, trying to throw her off balance, but she used this opportunity to climb on his back and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Yea- ooh!" Shouted the man who had put money on the Russian. "Thought she had him there." He shouted after Clint twisted and threw Natasha off his back. She flipped and was, once again, on her feet facing Clint.

"Come get me when they are done." Fury rolled his eye and left Coulson to watch them.

Ten more minutes passed and the crowd grew larger. Neither Clint nor Natasha showed any sign of slowing down though the sweat on their faces was clear to anyone watching. The fight wouldn't last much longer.

Natasha swung her leg at his again, managing this time to hit her target. As he fell, however, Clint grabbed Natasha's wrist and yanked, bringing her tumbling down after him. The crowd was speechless and all anyone could hear was the heavy breathing of the two tangled assassins lying on the floor of the ring.

"W- how do we call it?" Asked the second gambler.

"A tie I guess? Damn." Rattled the other. The crowd dispersed with a flurry of half heard comments leaving Coulson the sole spectator.

"Impressive." He remarked to the fighters. Clint chuckled but made no move to stand. Natasha turned her head to Coulson but said nothing, fighting to get her breathing under control.

"Good… fight. Again?" Clint said laboriously.

_"No." _Natasha replied vehemently. She managed to sit up and untangle her limbs from Clint's. She looked over Coulson and nodded. "How'd I do?" She exhaled in her exhaustion.

"First person to beat Clint since he started training." Coulson replied.

"She didn't beat me!" Clint forced himself upright so he could glare at Coulson. "It was a tie." He added, trying to hide his smile.

"When you two have had a chance to breathe and clean yourselves up meet me in my office. We'll talk then." Coulson smiled and left the room before Clint collapsed back to the floor. Natasha stared at him for a moment before flopping back down herself.

"Haven't had a fight like that in a while." Though her breathing was labored her voice was deceptively calm and measured. She turned to Clint to see his reaction and laughed when he just laid there panting. "Come on. We should go clean up. We have a meeting to get to."

Clint gestured lazily with his hand before forcing himself to sit up. "Yeah yeah. Ok. Let's go."

Coulson clicked his pen open and wrote something down on the paper he was holding. The Russian had passed every test put in front of her as though it was no more difficult than breathing or walking. Clint was right. She did have the necessary skills and was better at them than the agents already employed at S.H.I.E.L.D.

"So the only thing we have left to do is create your new identity. New name, new story."

"Does that mean I passed? Do I work here now?"

Coulson laughed. "Honestly the worst thing we could do is turn you away. With your skills and what you know about us and the Red Room we would be stupid not to take you."

"Thank you." She said calmly, though she really wanted to jump up and down and grin like a fool.

"Come back here in a few days and we'll have all your papers together and ready. You won't be able to go on missions for a while but you'll be officially an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

As Natasha left Coulson's office she saw Clint emerging from Fury's office. She finally grinned like she had wanted to, ran over to him, and leapt onto him for a hug. Clint was taken aback but wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Good news I take it?" He asked with a laugh.

"I'm in! I'm an agent!" She relaxed and allowed Clint to set her back down. She unwrapped her arms from around his neck. "Let's celebrate."

"Sure. I've got an idea. But it's a surprise."

Natasha nodded and started walking towards the door to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint followed after a moment, the feeling of her hugging him lingering.

"So where are we going?" Natasha asked, the moment Clint's door was closed. He started the car but only shook his head in response. Natasha sighed. Watching out the window she tried to figure out where they were headed but it was somewhere he hadn't taken her yet.

After a while he parked and climbed out. Natasha followed unsure where she was; no buildings around and few people. There were a lot of trees though. She followed him down a shaded path that led to the top of a hill. From there you could see miles of forest and hills uninterrupted. A few steps behind Clint, Natasha nearly walked into him when he stopped.

"This is my favorite place. Able to see for miles, no people, it's so peaceful." He led her to a bench and they sat silently for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I'll tell you my story of you want."


	6. Chapter 6

**So this chapter is both a little short a****nd a bit of a bummer and for that I apologize. The next one will be happier. I just wanted to get their backstories out so I could reference them later and you'll know which version of their stories I am using. I did take a few liberties with the stories so they won't be exactly what you may know from the movies or comics but they should be pretty close. **

Natasha hesitated before answering. She was dying to know what brought him to his current life; maybe she had found someone like herself, but she didn't want to make him say anything that might make him uncomfortable with her.

"If you're ready." Was the safest thing she could think to say.

"Someone ought to know."

She thought he might have changed his mind because he didn't speak for a while.

"I killed my brother. I mean, I didn't want to. And I didn't know right away. I-" he paused and sighed. "I did love him."

Natasha sat silently letting him work through his thoughts.

"My parents moved us to a farm in Iowa and he, Barney, was my only friend. My dad drank a lot. He- he and my mom died in a car accident when I was little. I don't remember them much but I do remember that my mom used to sing a lot. Anyway, after they died my brother and I were put in an orphanage. That was the worst place. We rarely ate and when we did we didn't get enough. Barney, trying to cheer me up, snuck us into a circus. It was the most marvelous thing I remember from my childhood. One of the few times I was happy after my parents died. I never wanted that to end. I think it was the same for Barney. We ran away with the circus. Trickshot and The Swordsman taught me what I know and I became a big attraction for the circus. Barney and I had never eaten so well.

"Eventually I realized Trickshot and The Swordsman were running some sort of scam. Stealing from the audience and planning big heists. I tried to stop them but they wouldn't listen. I was going to call the cops but when they threatened me I didn't even think. I shot them with the bow I was holding. They were the first people I ever killed. I heard a voice coming from the tent talking about the heist they had been planning and I was so scared I didn't recognize the voice. I just shot. Barney fell so quickly it didn't seem real. It took me awhile to figure it out but I pieced together that he was part of the crew stealing from people. It was how he afforded food for us. He was doing it all to protect me. I remember realizing it was him and I tried to save him. I sat with him until someone pulled me away. I don't remember who it was. I was 17 when he-" Clint paused to catch his breath, fighting tears. "I kind of fell into a dark spiral, drinking and hanging around bad people. I killed. A lot. I had no morals, no reason to do anything. That's when S.H.I.E.L.D. found me. It took me a while to come around to them but they helped me."

He brushed a tear off his cheek and stared out at the trees. Natasha was quiet for a while, surprised at how similar their stories actually were. Clint looked at her with surprise when she started her story.

"I was three when I joined the ballet. I remember being praised. I remember people clapping for me when I danced. It might have been my parents but I don't really remember their faces. The other girls were jealous of me, tried to hurt me, but the instructors protected me. They told the others I was a prodigy.

"One day a man came up to me and asked if I wanted to come train with him. He said I would become famous for my skills but only if I went to live with him and his other girls. My dance teacher was crying and said that these people were powerful and that I should be careful. Only looking back did I realize they were afraid. I said that my parents would miss me if I left them. That's when our house burned down. I cried and ran to my ballet teacher but the men found me. After that all I ever did was dance and learn to fight.

"The other girls were still jealous of me but I didn't see much of them outside of the ballet lessons. Those were a cover, of course, but they did teach us. The rest was languages and guns and combat. When our skills were good enough we would go through a graduation of sorts. There was a surgery. But I think you know about that." Clint nodded but didn't interrupt. "We got our first assignment a week later. I was thirteen."

Natasha was startled by Clint's hand over her own. She didn't pull away, fighting every instinct she had to do just that. The two sat together waiting for their tears to dry. The sun set and still they sat silently side by side. Only when security passed through did they return to the car and Clint's apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

Coulson called just as the two walked through the door of the apartment and gave Clint a rundown of what the next couple weeks would look like. There would be therapy for Natasha at least twice a week as well as an appointment or two for Clint. Training would be more regular and more structured. Paperwork would need to be done. Clint sighed in anticipation at the thought of it all. First he had gone against orders. Then he had gotten hurt. Then he brought one of S.H.I.E.L.D.s biggest enemies in as an asset. The paperwork would take hours.

He sighed as he hung up the phone. He was exhausted but suspected sleep would not come easily.

"Hey. Let's watch some tv." He suggested. He didn't really like TV and he suspected she didn't either but it would take their mind off things. "A little distraction will help us sleep." Natasha agreed but expressed a desire to change her clothes first.

When she stepped out of her room in Clint's old shirt, Clint had already chosen a show and was trying to zone out. Natasha sat next to him and he pulled the comforter over to cover her as well. On screen someone was complaining about their mother being unfair and an audience was laughing. Silently the two spies stared blankly sorting through their thoughts. Slowly they fell into a dreamless sleep.

It was late when Natasha woke with a start. It had been two years since she left Russia and moved in with Clint. Why these memories were cropping up in her dreams now she wasn't sure. She laid in bed for as long as she could stand (which was really only a few seconds) before she left her room.

"Couldn't sleep?" She heard from the kitchen.

"No. Dreams woke me up."

"Were you dreaming about when you first came here?" Clint asked much to Natasha's surprise.

"Yeah. How did you guess?"

"You are speaking in Russian. You only do that in missions or when you think about back then." Natasha hadn't even noticed that she was speaking another language. She and Clint knew so many that they could switch from one to another effortlessly and hardly notice. "By the way," he added, not giving Natasha time to ask why he was awake, "got you this." He handed her a small package wrapped in red and black paper. It had a little bow on top.

"What is this?" She asked, more curious and surprised than her usual wary.

"Birthday gift." Clint replied as though she should have known.

"I'm twenty one. Shouldn't you be taking me out and buying me shots for a gift?" She joked. She had picked up the small box and was turning it around in her hands to examine it. Clint sipped his tea and watched her open the gift. She carefully removed the paper without tearing it and removed the small box from inside. She smiled when she saw the bracelet: a delicate silver chain with a little ruby dangling from it. "It's so pretty," she breathed.

Clint leaned over the counter to clasp it around her wrist. She admired it for a moment before walking to Clint's side of the counter to hug him. "Thank you. You should go to bed. We have a mission briefing tomorrow."

Clint laughed. "Yes dear," he said sarcastically earning a glare from Natasha. She returned to her room to admire the bracelet more closely. It really was quite lovely. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

"I'm guessing Africa. We haven't gone there in a while. Or maybe India. I hope it's somewhere warm. I swear if Coulson sends us to another gods damned frozen wasteland I'm quitting." Natasha laughed at Clint. They played this little game before every mission trying to guess where they would be going. The last undercover mission saw them in snowy North Dakota in January. Clint was somewhat less than pleased and felt the need to express this again as they walked to Coulson's office. "For the state holding most of our country's nukes you'd think it would be a little more interesting. If I never see another snow covered wheat field I'll be happy."

"I don't know. I think I heard Coulson saying something about a follow up mission, maybe something about snow. I think we're going back north."

"Ooh. Don't even joke about that." He said opening the door and walking in to the office.

"Good morning, agents. How are you?"

"You better not be sending us back to North Dakota, Coulson," Clint greeted.

Coulson allowed a brief smile to pass across his lips before he went into the briefing. "Before I tell you about where you're going I should ask, Natasha how is your ballet? Remember it?"

After a brief pause she responded. "Yeah? I need a little practice I guess but I still remember it."

"Good. You'll be posing as a ballet instructor." He handed her a copy of the file. Handing one to Clint he added, "You'll be posing as an art dealer. You two are married. You'll have a studio apartment in Paris and you leave in a week. Any questions?"

Both spies had at least a hundred questions but knew that most of them would be answered by the file. "Guess I better go find my slippers." Natasha muttered as she left his office.

Clint rolled his eyes for what felt like the twentieth time before giving up on studying art. He'd get it eventually but right now he couldn't care less about why this artist was different than that. He hoped Natasha might be having better luck and went to find her.

He walked to the exercise wing of the S.H.I.E.L.D building and found the dancing studio without much trouble. He peeked in and saw Natasha dancing alone wearing a pale pink leotard and tights. She could have been a ballerina if her life had gone differently, he thought. He stepped into the room loudly enough that she wouldn't be startled by his presence.

"Hey. You look pretty good out there." He spun around on his toes. Natasha rolled her eyes. "What? I can dance! It might not be ballet but I can waltz with the best of them." He strode over to her and swept her close. He led her in a simple dance humming a little song for them to dance to. "I know a little swing too!" He spun her faster, Natasha having no difficulty keeping up. They danced together for a few minutes before Clint had to go back to his studying.

"No fair. You definitely got the more exciting part of this mission," he pouted, as Natasha sent him on his way. The two hardly saw each other for the next couple days, both leaving HQ at odd hours and training separately. The night before leaving for the mission they both found themselves in Clint's apartment and awake at the same time. It was late but neither Clint nor Natasha could sleep.

"Want to watch TV?" Clint offered with a quiet smile. It was their usual standby when sleep proved too difficult. It was more sitting next to each other in a comfortable silence that helped but they always "watched tv".

Natasha nodded and flopped on the couch and started untying her ballet slippers. She hadn't sat still long enough to take them off yet. She grimaced slightly and rubbed her sore feet, wondering how she would be able to handle dancing so much for so long a mission.

Clint gestured to her to give him her feet. Hesitantly she stretched out on the couch with her feet in his lap and he began massaging them. Not even five minutes later he glanced at Natasha and she was fast asleep. He smiled and continued massaging her feet. He hoped she might get a more restful sleep than she might otherwise


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again. This chapter is rather short. I had finals and a lot of travel so I haven't had much time to work on this for the past few weeks. I have started the next chapter which should be a lot more exciting than this one so I hope you stick around. **

"Why in the hell did Coulson arrange such an early flight?" He glanced over to the clock reading 5am. Oh well. He could sleep on the plane.

The two grabbed the few belongings of their own they wanted to bring and headed out the door. Coulson had arranged for a car to drive them to the airport. They wouldn't be flying in a S.H.I.E.L.D. plane thinking that might raise too much suspicion. In the car Clint reached into the envelope in his pocket and pulled out a set of rings. "For the missus." He handed her the smaller of the two and slid the other on his finger.

Though he wanted to sleep, Clint couldn't shake the desire to study more so he pulled out his book of art and started going through it again. It would be a while before they got to the airport and even longer before they could board. Natasha leaned back and tried to get back to sleep knowing she might not be able to on the plane.

After ten minutes of being unable to fall asleep she sighed and shifted to lean against the window. She could feel Clint watching her. The two had become increasingly close as friends and coworkers and they knew almost everything about each other. She knew he had lied about his age to S.H.I.E.L.D. saying he was two years older than he actually was (she got that out of him when he was on painkillers after a sprained knee) and she knew that he had a little birthmark on his back that, if you squinted, looked like a moose. He knew that she loved to draw and disliked makeup and that she collected all the loose change she had in a jar under her bed and used it to buy candy.

Natasha gave up on sleeping and looked at Clint.

"What?" She asked him. Clint looked startled as though he had forgotten he was looking at her. He closed his book and quickly changed the subject.

"We're almost at the airport." He said. Natasha glanced out the window and they were actually driving in the main gate.

"Good save," she teased lightly. The driver pulled up to their door and let them out. They didn't speak again until they had their luggage and made it to their gate.

"So how long did Coulson say this trip was going to last?" Natasha asked as she picked a pair of seats in the corner. They had a nice view and were far enough away from other people that they could talk. "I was reading the file when he mentioned it and I didn't hear him."

"At least two weeks, maybe more." Clint responded before yawning. "I can't believe this is all to catch a forger."

"Oh hush. You know there's more to it than that." She carefully didn't mention anything about the mission because a woman with two children walked by before choosing a seat for herself. The two sat peacefully until the plane arrived and passengers were allowed to board.

"We should probably start getting into character," Clint whispered quietly. Natasha nodded in response and nestled her hand inside his. It didn't take them long to find their seats and get settled in.

"Folks," they heard over the intercom, "we are experiencing a delay this morning. A lot of flights taking off. We will be leaving forty-five minutes later than planned. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Clint immediately rolled his eyes. Natasha sighed in annoyance and disappointment. She leaned back and closed her eyes trying to tune out the commotion of the annoyed passengers. This was going to be a long flight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey all. It's been a while hasn't it? This is another short chapter but it's leading to some more exciting content that hopefully I'll Geoff a little sooner than I have been lately. Thanks for sticking around and, as always, read and review. **

There was black. And a throbbing pain emanating from her head. Light swam in her vision unfocused and bright. Too bright. Then more black.

She fought the unconsciousness as hard as she could despite the overwhelming desire to pass out and sleep for hours.

It didn't work.

She collapsed and let her eyes slam shut against the harsh light.

Clint registered movement near him. Or was it he who had moved? He wasn't sure but he knew he was conscious again. Mostly. He opened his eyes attempting to take in his surroundings.

A hotel room. His hotel room? He knew it was but he wasn't sure how he knew. He didn't remember checking in. He turned his head (a big mistake) and saw Natasha draped against him, using him as a pillow. Her head was tucked into his shoulder and her arm was draped across his chest.

"Natasha," he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again though he didn't speak any more clearly than before. He mumbled quietly before tapping her back to wake her up. "Natasha. Hey. Wake up."

"No," She mumbled quietly but firmly into his shoulder (though she didn't realize it was his shoulder) and buried her head into him. "I don't want to."

"Hnmgh," Clint grumbled. He didn't want to be awake either but it was too late for that. He tapped her again.

"Get off me." She said with as much anger as she could muster.

Clint blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked down again. "I think you need to reconsider that plan of action. At least open your eyes." Natasha sighed and looked around slowly. After a moment she shot up in surprise.

"Ouch," she hissed under her breath, clutching her head and fighting the desire to lie back down. "What-" she leaned forward enough to pull the curtains closed so she could think more clearly. "Is this our room? What's going on?"

Clint sat up painfully and tried to figure something out. He grunted incoherently and stumbled across the room to the bathroom where he gulped down water and aspirin. While he was gone Natasha glanced around her to gather clues. There was an open letter lying on the table across the room.

"Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Collins. We, the staff of the Fairstreet Hotel, would like to welcome you to Paris! We have been informed that you will be staying with us while your apartment is being renovated. We would like to thank you for your business and offer you two complementary dinner at our restaurant. Please feel free to let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable."

A sloppy signature was scrawled at the bottom. Natasha looked around the room and didn't see anything else to explain their evening until she glanced in the mirror. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and her hair had been curled. Suddenly memories started flooding in. She and Clint had arrived late afternoon and were told to report to the hotel. They found some clothes in the closet and the letter on the table.

"Clint," Natasha called. "I think I know what happened last night."


	10. Chapter 10

**Well I guess I was right about this chapter going up faster than the others. Please leave me a review and tell me what you might like to happen next. The more inspiration I have the faster the chapters will go up. **

The two managed to start piecing together the previous night, each adding details as they remembered them.

_Clint had stayed down in the lobby to make a couple of phone calls arranging their move to their apartment and getting into character for their mission. Natasha retired to the room where she found the letter from the hotel management and the clothes in the closet. To hell with staying in for the night. She wanted to have a little fun._

_She chose the slinkiest black dress and put her hair up in loose curls and pinned it back. She left a note for Clint saying where she would be and signed it "Adeline," her alias. _

_She found a seat and listened to the live music. After a short wait (and a vodka martini) at the bar, she felt a presence next to her. Turning her head, about to tell the stranger to go away, she saw Clint wearing a suit and ordering a drink. _

_"Cli- Alexander," Natasha caught herself and addressed him as his alias, "you look lovely." Clint grinned at her wanting to tease her for complimenting him but needing to stay in character. _

_"And you look ravishing, my dear," he responded with a wink. Natasha gave him a chastising look and hoped he didn't notice her blush. The two sat side by side at the bar drinking too many drinks and doing their best to convince those around them that they were a young couple madly in love. Natasha was about to respond to a question Clint asked when she saw a mischievous glint in his eye. He pulled her off her seat and on to the dance floor as a fast paced song started to play. She recognized it as "Sway With Me" and followed as Clint pulled her in tight and led her in a dance. _

_She thought about how close she was to Clint and blushed again. At least no one would be skeptical of their cover. As the singer crooned the words Clint hummed along in her ear and, true to the song, the were swaying close. Clint proved again how good of a dancer he was, leading without a problem, dancing faster here, slower there, and adding a little flair when he pleased: a spin, a dip, and whenever Natasha looked surprised Clint responded with a wink. By the end of the song they were about leaning on each other dancing as one. _

_The song grew softer and came to an end but as Natasha tried to pull away and lead Clint back to the table, he tugged her hand lightly and refused to budge. The band started playing a slower song, romantic and quiet. Clint pulled her back into him, her hand in his and his other arm wrapped tight around the small of her back. Natasha, too taken aback to resist wrapped her arm behind him and draped her hand on his shoulder. As they danced slowly and sweetly neither noticed her head fall to his shoulder nor the dance floor grow empty. As the second song came to an end the two drifted apart slowly and smiled at each other. _

_They left the bar and were walking through the lobby towards the elevator when a man in a business suit approached them. _

_"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Collins." He greeted. _

_"Adeline, please," Natasha responded in character. _

_"Alexander, or Alex," Clint added shaking the man's hand and tucking Natasha in to his side, his arm around her. _

_"It's an absolute pleasure to have you staying with us. My wife is a great fan of the ballet and when she heard you would be visiting Paris as a guest instructor, and staying here for a couple nights, she ordered me to ask if you might be performing at all while you are here." He looked towards Natasha pleasantly and expectantly. Natasha made a mental note to applaud S.H.I.E.L.D on their great skill creating aliases. _

_"I have not yet organized a performance though I am hoping to soon. It would be a small venue of course, though I will be sure to reserve tickets for you and your wife." Natasha wasn't sure what would happen with the mission but she thought that might be a good diversion if it became necessary. _

_"Wonderful, wonderful. I will let you on your way and please, contact me personally if you need anything." He smiled and nodded to Clint before walking away. _

_Clint giggled, trying in vain to stifle it. _

_"What?" Natasha asked, starting to laugh but not knowing why. _

_"Did you see his toupee?" He asked, breaking into full laughter. Natasha laughed , more at Clint than the man's hairpiece and tugged him toward the elevator. _

_Clint calmed down by the time they stepped into the elevator and realized that Natasha's hand was still nestled in his. Natasha was startled as he dropped her hand and placed his on the back of her neck, his other hand drifting to her back to pull her close. He brought his lips to hers and gingerly, as though he was afraid to hurt her, he kissed her. Quickly the gentle kiss grew more passionate, Natasha getting lost in his alarming sincerity. She hardly noticed leaving the elevator and finding their room. _

Natasha looked to Clint in surprise, a similar expression reflected in his features.

"Um-" Natasha croaked. "I'm gonna... shower." She raced to the bathroom quickly. Clint reached to catch her, unsure of what he would say but was too late. The door was closed.

Natasha leaned on her side of the door, trying not to panic when she realized she really wasn't panicking. At all. She stepped out of the bathroom meeting Clint's eyes and reading the hurt, concern, and confusion on his face. With more calm than she would've thought possible she strode across the room, stood on her tiptoes to reach her arms around his neck, and crashed her lips to his.


	11. Chapter 11

**It has been another long gap since I last posted but I promise I haven't forgotten. It's been a busy few months with a lot to deal with but I am finally back with another chapter. I have a couple ideas where I might go with the next chapter so it might be a short wait for that to go up but it is in the works. Enjoy, review, and as always, I apologize for any typos. I write this all on my phone. **

After a moment to register what had happened Clint fell into the kiss, reacting to everything Natasha was giving him and giving as much back. Slowly the two moved toward the bed and fell onto it, hardly pulling their faces away from one another.

Natasha sighed almost petulantly when Clint stopped kissing her and reached for the phone. Why whoever it was called right then and couldn't leave them in peace she didn't know. As he was talking to whoever was on the line there was a knock at the door. She delivered an impressive eye roll to no one and went to answer it.

"Hello," she greeted. It was the hotel manager again, delivering a message from the front desk.

"This arrived for you only moments ago," he smiled, "and I brought it straight away."

"Merci," Natasha grinned sweetly, though she really wished he had waited a while. She opened the letter in case it was from S.H.I.E.L.D. but found only an invitation to a banquet. The academy at which she was posing as an instructor offering a chance to get to know everyone with whom she would be working. She handed the letter to Clint and returned her attention to the man at the door.

"And may I offer the two of you a complimentary breakfast?" The manager prodded.

"No, thank you," Clint joined the conversation. "We've just been told our flat is ready. We'll be able to move in this afternoon and that calls for celebration at a restaurant."

The manager nodded and walked away leaving Natasha and Clint alone together again.

Natasha, trying to hide her disappointment, set down the letter and went to the closet to pack the clothes away. "Where should we go to lunch?"

"I know this great little place not far from here. Really close actually and very private. I think you'll like it." Clint responded walking over to her and gently grabbing her hand.

Pulling lightly Clint led her to the bed and sat down. "Table for two?" He tugged a little harder causing her to fall into him. She giggled (which surprised both of them) but played along.

"Looks perfect."

The two wasted no time picking up where they left off.

After another call from S.H.I.E.L.D. urging them to move into their apartment, the two hastily changed out of their clothes from the previous night, gathered their things and took a cab over. They ignored the boxes scattered in every room; ignored the mess and clutter. They didn't notice much, concerned only with the fact that they were once again alone and in a private place.

Not bothering to find a couch or bed, Clint scooped Natasha up as soon as the door closed behind them. He carried her to the nearby kitchen counters, high enough that she sat taller than Clint.

Natasha ran her fingers through Clint's short hair as he kissed along her collarbone and up the side of her neck. Natasha gripped his arm when he kissed right at the edge of her jawbone, a sudden lightness flooding through her.

"'Tasha?" Clint asked, worry edging through the huskiness of his voice, "you ok?" His hands on her hips, he drew little circles on their thigh with his thumb.

"Humnnm," Natasha mumbled in reply, pulling Clint close to kiss him on the lips.

"Oh," Clint responded with a throaty laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment then."

Clint moved one hand from her hip and slid it gently up under her shirt along her side. His thumb resumed the circles on her ribs.

Noticing the time Natasha carefully pulled away.

"We need to get ready. The banquet…"

"Screw the banquet. We'll be late." Clint swept her off the counter and carried her off into a bedroom.


End file.
